Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The city of Kaon was bustling, the dark streets full of chatter and a familiar smell of burnt oil and rust wafting from too many alleys to pinpoint where it actually came from. Mechs of all sizes moved around, some looking for a brawl, others looking for a decent meal, and the rest trying to survive in a low managed city. Here rules were like guidelines- no one could stop you if you decided not to follow them. Shady dealers, swindlers, murderers, abandoned mechs, all came together in this city, and everyday was a challenge to survive. 

Once mech walked through the crowd, a large cloak hiding his frame as he threaded through the damp mess of bodies. He kept a hood over his helm, and gripped the cloak over his right arm. His mismatched optics looked around, before pausing in front of a cheap stall. It was an old femme selling random trinkets, something about protection and safety to one’s spark. The mech was never one to believe in such superstitions, and thought it was just an awful joke used to rip off naive bots for extra change. Even now, as he skimmed over the jerry-built charms, he was sure there was no way these actually warded off ‘evil.’

His optics stopped at one. It didn’t look much different from the other charms, what with their tacky colors and poor-quality welding, but there was something about it that struck it unique. It was in the shape of the Megatronus insignia, albeit it looked far more jagged than the mech recalled ever seeing it as. He picked it up to examine it, and flinched when the old femme moved closer as well.

“You must be a warrior,” The old femme said. “This charm could protect you in battle, and even save your life when it is needed most.” She spoke, her vocalizer chopped and crackly under the layers of clothing she donned. “Mint condition too. Stronger protection.”

“Mint condition Megatronus Prime decal, first edition.” An old voice rang in the back of the mech’s help, and he grit his denta. An old memory, meant to be forgotten. Meant to have died with the rest of his memories of him.

The mech looked at the charm again, and frowned. Like hell it was actually useful.

—

The mech continued his walk through Kaon, keeping a servo over his cloak, keeping his helm down as he passed several bots. His steps carried a small jingle, and he groaned as he glanced at his hip, where the Megatronus charm sat. He didn’t need it, he knew that. Whatever charm or protection he needed from a prime like him was already too late to give. Too late to want either.

And yet here he was, walking around with a scrap of metal because he let his spark decide for him.

The mech scoffed, and pulled the cloak over his right arm again. “Waste of…time.” He muttered, his vocalizer choppy. He needed to conserve his energy anyways. The safe house was only a couple mechanometers anyways, so he could get that repaired-

He grunted as he collided against a bulky mech, and he frowned as the larger bot glared at him and clenched their fists. “Watch where you’re going, freak!” The mech rolled his optics at that and huffed. He wasn’t expecting anything unique from the people here anyways. His optics widened immediately when his cloak was grabbed, and he turned face-to-face to the bulky bot, who looked more angered now. “You think you can act like that to me, huh punk?!”

…what was this guy on about? The mech grunted, and tried to pry himself away from the other bot. “L-let- go-” He said, his voice crackling.

“Or what, huh?” The bulky mech bellowed, and the mech grit his denta. He could feel eyes on them, many of the passers-by now surrounding them curiously in a circle. Stay low, stay quiet, that was the mission- and this bolt-head was ruining it all with his big mouth.

The mech glanced at where his cloak was held, and noticed his right arm would remain hidden nonetheless. He huffed, and clenched his right servo. “Shut…up.” He said, and rammed his servo right into the other mech’s tank, making the bot fold over in pain and surprise. The mech’s cloak was released, and he didn’t waste any time before grabbing the bulky bot’s head, and pulled it down to hit right against his knee guard, watching as the big mech fell down. The onlookers let out a few gasps and murmurs, and the cloaked mech clicked his glossa.

So much for hiding.

He didn’t wait around to see how the mech was, and slipped into the crowd. He huddled into his cloak more, and glanced at his charm. Some protector it was , he thought. Threw me into a fight right after buying the damn thing.

He looked up again, and then turned into an alleyway. The smell of burnt oil dimmed, and he moved to stand in front of a door. Most of the buildings here lost power to keep the gladiator ring big and flashy for mobs to keep visiting, so brute force was needed most of the time for doors. The mech looked around once more out of safety, before pushing the cloth away from his right arm. He grimaced as he saw the organic forearm he donned, before grabbing the side of the door and pushing it open.

He slipped inside, and let go of the door, hissing as he heard it slam shut loudly. He scoffed, before noticing a ladder nearby. He was informed the room was on one the…which one was it again-? Right, third. He walked to it, and covered his arm again. Less time out in the open, less likely he’d get caught.

Perhaps he was lucky, in some way. Miners didn’t always get the best care unless it was dire, and as D-16, he was always careful about his injuries back when he was still eager to prove his worth through his work. He’s had an injured limb before, and sometimes it was easier to learn how to get around things instead of trying to use the damaged limb itself. Lessons like that seemed to find their way back to his life, like with this ladder. He grunted as he pulled himself up rung by rung with his left servo alone, the weight in his pedes acting as a good stabilizer to keep him grounded and prevented him falling back.

But he wasn’t D-16 anymore. Not here, not in Kaon. Not anywhere in Cybertron. He made sure of it after he tore apart that treacherous bot Sentinel Prime and took his cog for his own. A cog he couldn’t even keep, and one he hasn’t seen in almost 8 cycles. The mech reached the third level, and pushed himself onto the edge, before climbing up and walking down the narrow hallway. The walls here weren’t thick, but the mech expected it- at least there were walls to hide the horrors he carried.

13…15…17… The mech walked past many of the rooms, occasionally hearing a mix of yelling and objects being thrown, or other times- unfortunately- the sound of some passionate mechs testing the strength of these walls. He reached the door number 25, and sighed. He raised his left servo, and gave one knock; a pause, then two quick knocks; another pause, and then three long knocks. The door was pulled open, and he nodded his helm in greeting to the other mech in the room already.

“Soundwave.” He said, and stepped inside. He glanced at the door again when it snapped shut, and huffed through his nasal opening. “Hate that-” He cut off with a cough, and covered his mouth with his cloak. He could feel something spill out, and when he pulled back, he could see the familiar sight of bright pink staining his cloak. He overdid it again.

Soundwave tilted his helm, and loomed over the other former Decepticon. “Megatron: vocalizer damaged. Query: Need fixing now?”

Megatron sighed, and nodded. He took off his cloak and threw it on the floor, before moving to sit by the window side. “Yes…” He said, and watched from above the people of Kaon live their lives, blissfully unaware of the monster that lived just above them. Perhaps it was better, in a way, since it meant they wouldn’t tell the Autobots of their location. He had no interest in running around right now, much less seeing any old faces.

Megatron leaned back, and tilted his helm back to leave his neck cables visible. “Gentle.” He reminded his ally, keeping to one-worded sentences not to damage more of his vocalizer. “Hurt.” He narrowed his optics, recalling the last time he had Soundwave fix him, and he nearly lost his voice altogether from the pain.

“Soundwave: understands.” Soundwave nodded, and shifted his index digit into a blade. Megatron took a deep vent, and stiffened his frame as the first incision was done. He closed his optics, and sighed as the process continued quietly between the two mechs. Soundwave gently pulled up the vocalizer to look under it to the oral circuits, which was growing rust on them. Soundwave pressed his blade against them, and Megatron winced as he felt his vocalizer get cut off from his mouth, and opened one of his optics to look at Soundwave curiously. “Oral circuits: Rusted. Repair: required through replacement.”

Megatron closed his optics and his frame relaxed as Soundwave stepped back to prepare some fresh new circuits. He was always equipped with many replacement parts, and Megatron never questioned where or how he acquired them. So long as Soundwave remained loyal to him, he didn’t care what the mech did. There were worse things to fear. At least Soundwave’s servos were easier to be under than others.

“Commander: Sent a message.” Soundwave said as he pulled up a small bundle of oral circuits. “Query: Shall I play it, Megatron?”

Megatron pursed his lips, and glanced across the room as a sudden bang was heard behind the wall. Megatron sneered as he heard the sounds of two random mechs muffled moaning without much care right after. He shook his helm, and pointed a digit to his neck cables, more interested in being able to speak again at the moment. He could hear the message another time, when he wouldn’t be distracted by a mech screaming for ‘more.’ As if what they were doing wasn’t loud enough for the floor to hear them.

Soundwave nodded, and through careful comparison and thought, he soldered and reconnected a new portion of oral circuits to Megatron’s vocalizer, and pushed the vocalizer back into place. He soldered the neck cables again, and looked at Megatron. “Megatron: Test your voice.”

Megatron took a deep vent. “What-” He paused, surprised by how low it sounded, before he continued. “Summarize the message.” He said, and sat up. The mech rubbed his servo over his newly soldered neck and let out a deep vent. At least this time it was better. 

Soundwave nodded, and sat down across from Megatron. “Message: Ship returns in two cyberweeks. Megatron: with Soundwave are due to return to the surface before then to be collected.” He explained. “Commander: expects good results from Megatron.” 

Megatron scoffed, and pulled up one leg to lean against his knee guard. “No surprise.” He muttered. The commander was never a kind hearted man. If anything he was quite the monster that even Sentinel seemed to fear back then, so it was no surprise that he showed no care in their survival- only in their results. He looked at his right arm again, staring at the new ‘adjustment’ they gave him- an organic arm that controlled his body whenever a mission was given to him, even if he wanted to refuse. He remembered trying to fight it back when it first came online. He could only scream as he felt his right servo be used for hurting his fellow survivors on the ship. He clenched his servo, and glanced at Soundwave. 

“You’re not expected by Commander?” He asked cautiously. He remembered what their goals were in this morbid life after they were deemed ‘ready for use.’ Megatron was meant to act as an executioner, killing fellow Cybertronians whenever an order was sent to him, and never get caught. Soundwave, on the other hand, was meant to act as informant; find information on the new Prime’s moves, and find any information on their allies and armies to have Megatron either kill and remove certain mechs, or to use against them in battle. If the ship was returning now, it meant that their plan for the battle would be put to use, and both Megatron and Soundwave would no doubt be put in the front lines to become living shields against the Autobots, killed once their use was over. 

Soundwave shook his head. “Soundwave: expected to return with Megatron. Contrast: Soundwave is not urgently needed.” He explained. “Megatron: needed for phase three of operation.” 

Megatron’s optics widened, and he stiffened. He grit his denta, and stood up immediately. “...you’re joking.” 

“Soundwave: does not joke.” Soundwave retorted, and moved away. He could see the way Megatron’s frame got tense, his body going into a fighting position. “Megatron: be at ease. Soundwave: will prevent phase three from beginning-” 

“Commander will make it happen regardless.” Megatron cut him off, and his optics wavered. He remembered the phases he faced back when he was in the ship. The probing tentacles, the tubes, the endless prodding and surgeries…His vent was growing louder, exhausting more power as more memories flooded his processor. The tanks, the sounds of survivors screaming and crying out in agony, before they were cut off harshly into silence. The feeling of his body twisting and moving against his accord, feeling of his body tied down as they tore his limbs apart and replaced them with new ones, of chassis ripped open to have his cog stolen, the pain in his processor as his memories were infiltrated and played with, and he was constantly reminded of that awful day. 

“You betrayed me.” 

“You betrayed me.” 

“You betrayed me.”  

Megatron slammed his servo into the wall, and let out a shuddering vent. He glanced at his fist, and noted the wall was now torn, creating a hole. They were thinner than he thought. He looked behind him, and saw Soundwave still sitting in place, looking calm. Megatron cleared his throat, and pulled his fist out of the wall. 

“...I will see if escape is still possible.” He muttered, and turned to grab his cloak again. He placed it over his shoulders and arms, making sure his right arm was covered properly again. He pulled his hood over his helm, and turned to the door. “...inform me if ship comes early.” He mumbled, and pushed open the door. “I’m off.” 

“Query: Where does Megatron plan to go?” Soundwave asked one last time, and Megatron could tell even without the addition of emotion the other was worried. 

“Where else?” He muttered, and looked back at Soundwave. He reached out to touch the side of his helm, and a green visor came up over his optics. Megatron could see a screen pop up behind it in front of his optics, informing him of any new updates and new assignments he had to handle. “What I was thrown here to do.” He said, and accepted a mission for eliminating a familiar blue bot. He recalled barely seeing her blaze past him when he entered that stupid race so long ago, how she cheered for her victory while he and Orion struggled to make it easily. 

He left the room, and let go of the door. He yelped when the door slammed shut quickly again, and he grit his denta, and glared at the old thing and yelled from behind it. “Get the door fixed! Shuts too fast!” 

——

Optimus sighed as he looked over the body of a mech who was once amongst the high guard. His finials twitched out of anxiety and frustration as he tried to understand the reason behind this death. Actually, what was the motive? None of the former deaths made any sense either. Each mech was different, each one having lived different lives and had different preferences. None of them even shared similar colors either. The only similarity they all held was their death; their faceplate bashed into the ground to the point their processor was useless, their chassis’s torn apart, and a cog missing from its frame. 

“It looks like the perpetrator made a getaway again shortly after destroying the mech as usual.” Prowl spoke up as he walked up to the Prime. “No trace of which direction this time though. He’s either getting better at hiding tracks or we’ve got a few other rogue bots trying to play monster murderer for fun.” He said, and grimaced at the sight of the mech. 

“No rogue bot.” A high-pitched, and somewhat scratchy, voice piped up from above, and Optimus and Prowl looked up to see Starscream standing on the roof side by the murder. “There’s a pede-print here. He must have landed here before jumping off.” He said, and looked at Optimus. “He’s definitely a flier type, there are soot marks here too.” 

Prowl narrowed his optics in annoyance at the sight of Optimus’s advisor interrupting their conversation, and huffed. “Thank you Starscream-” 

“ Lord Starscream,” The seeker smiled, and his grin only widened at the sight of the strategist growing more angry at his words. “I am one of the Prime’s advisors. I expect to hear my title with it.” 

“You-!”

“They’re not experienced in it either,” Thundercracker spoke up, and poked his head from the edge to look at Optimus. “Most fliers and seekers like us don’t leave marks like this behind. It must be a newly cogged mech with a flyer mode.” He explained. 

Optimus furrowed his browplates. “So a former miner?” He asked, skeptical. “But for what motive? Some of these mechs are from the high guard, and others fellow former miners. It’s been almost 12 cycles since peace was made with us all, why act now?” 

“Not a miner.” Thundercracker corrected. “Newly cogged.” He gestured to the dead mech nearby. “These frames are missing their cogs. There has to be a flier alter cog amongst them. Maybe they use multiple cogs to hide their true form. It’s not unlikely, is it? They seem crazy enough to pull this off.” He looked amongst the others curiously. 

“It’s not impossible,” Prowl looked back at the cold frame. “We haven’t been trying to look for any cogs before. But if they are indeed using multiple cogs, then this is gonna take more manpower and force.” He said, and looked at the Prime. “What do you think?” 

Prime placed his servos on his hip, and vented through his nasal opening. “...if it’s right, then we’ll need to place a city wide lockdown. Keep them in the city, if they haven’t left already.” He said. He wasn’t sure when was the last time Iacon had ever initiated such an order. Perhaps never with the primes around. A lockdown, especially a city-level one, might not be accepted easily because of it either, which only seemed to bring more trouble than good. 

Prowl’s eyes widened, and he frowned. “You sure? City-level lockdowns aren’t easy to keep down forever.” He asked, and when he didn’t get a response, his frown deepened. “...I’ll go ask Elita, see if she can give us a third opinion.” Starscream and Thundercracker glanced at each other, before choosing to leave the Prime alone too.

Optimus sighed, and pressed the bridge of his nasal opening. It was times like this he wished he had someone to lean on, someone he could fall back to for help and understanding. 

“Always got your back. No matter what.”  

The prime shook his helm, and turned to where Ratchet was. Unlike most other mechs here, he was a cogged bot since he went online, and was Iacon’s best medic. He was also the most crankiest. “Well, Ratchet? “What do you think about this?” Optimus asked, and stood beside the medic over the frame. “Same pattern?” 

“Similar.” Ratchet said gruffly, and crossed his arms as he followed Optimus’s gaze. “Head was bashed first as always. There are traces of soot around the outline here, so it can be assumed a firearm was involved this time.” He pointed to the frame’s neck cables. “Vocalizer’s been damaged and torn off too. Knockout found some extra wires in this one’s servos, so maybe we’ll get a lead this time.” He shrugged, and turned away to properly face Optimus. “Now what’s got you so worked up? You’re not usually this agitated from seeing a dead body.” 

Optimus blinked, and looked at the medic in surprise. “...I’m not agitated.” He said, though it sounded more of a question than an actual response. “I’m just trying to understand the purpose of these deaths.” 

Ratchet snorted and patted Optimus’s shoulder before walking off. “Don’t overdo it. You’ll fry your processor faster if you do.” 

Optimus frowned, and his finials dropped. He didn’t like the implication behind it. 

He shook his helm, and looked up at the ceiling Iacon existed under. He watched unsuspecting civilians flying past them, none the wiser of the gruesome scene here. Optimus glanced at the fallen mech, and pursed his lips. Did this one have a family? A conjunx waiting for him? How would they take the news? Would they act resentful and seek revenge? 

“No, I want to kill him!”   Optimus sighed, and closed his optics. It had been 12 cycles. 12 cycles and he was still reminiscing in memories of someone who was long gone. These murders were taking a toll on him. He waved over Jazz, and smiled awkwardly. “Hey, can you check if there’s anything else to take for analysis around the area? You can talk to Prowl about what you find.” He said, and moved to stand at the edge of the road. “I’ll head back, see if I can find any connections with the previous ones.” Optimus then shifted into his alt form, and drove back to his office. 

Optimus still found it unnerving, even after all this time. Being in a better position was what he wanted, but this wasn’t it. Being a prime felt too much for him to handle. Being a prime felt exhausting, and if he could pass it down to someone else he would do it in a sparkbeat. Optimus shifted back once the building was in range, and jumped down from the road. 

“Oh, hey Prime!” Bee piped up, and ran over beaming. “What’s up? Done your investigation already?” B-127, or now known as ‘Bumblebee’ between Optimus and Elita, was still the same fellow the prime first met down in sublevel 50. Bright, cheery, always carrying an air of sunshine around him. It eased Optimus’s spark, knowing some things never changed. 

“Sort of,” He said, and walked inside. “I’m going to probably look through the archives, see if I can get any information.” He told Bee, and stepped into one of the elevators. 

“Oh, that’s cool. Let me know if you find anything, ok?” He said, and beamed. “I’m gonna go visit Shockwave now, I’m sure he’ll need a helping hand right now-!”

Optimus’s optics widened, and he reached his servo out. “Wait-!” The elevator doors closed before he could continue, and he sighed. He wondered how Bee managed to live this long with how often he seemed to visit the scientist. Last time, he barely stopped Bee from jumping into a vat of acid for the scientist. Hopefully Shockwave wouldn’t be on edge as much today. Hopefully. 

The elevator doors dinged open, and he stepped through. Unlike before, the archives were more cleared up and organized, and had more light to look for data pads properly. He skimmed through the isles, his attention slowly diverging from seeking answers to just looking around. Optimus heard footsteps nearby, and looked around confused. No one was supposed to be here, only he and Elita had access to the archives, and she was still at the crime scene. 

He moved towards the sound, and kept his guard up. His optics noticed a small figure standing behind an aisle, about half his size. He could see a faint glimmer of grey paint, and he furrowed his browplates. The prime quickly moved to the isle to see who it was exactly, but there was no one. Optimus only grew more puzzled, and went to see exactly what that mysterious mech was looking at. He stopped at an old and worn box, and he pursed his lips. Optimus pulled out the box, and carried it to a nearby table. He placed it down gently, and pulled out of the old memory cards in there. He blew over the card face, and set it into the card holder. The screen fizzled out, and Optimus sat down once it began to clear up. 

“Orion, you’re crazy.” A dark grey-blackish mech stood by the edge of a building, looking terrified. They were cogless, but then again, it was expected from a memory this old. “We’re supposed to go on our next shift in a couple of kliks! C’mon, let’s go-”

“Oh c’mon, Dee, you’re too easily scared!” Optimus heard his voice chime back, and he winced. He never thought his voice was so high back then. Must have been why the matrix gave him a deeper one as Prime. “Besides, we’ll be on time. Just trust me!” 

“I trusted you last time, and we got scolded by Elita for a whole Sol! We even got less rations that week!” D-16 yelled back, and moved away from the edge. “Let’s just- go back for now! Please?!” 

Optimus snorted softly, and leaned on his right servo. “We won’t know until we try.” He mumbled softly, his voice lining up to his own recorded one on the screen. He watched as D-16 sputtered and fought between strangling him, or joining him. He chuckled, and smiled at the sight. D-16 had always been more expressive when it was the two of them. “I promise I’ll count, okay?” Orion said in the video. 

D-16 sighed, and rubbed his servos over his face plate, before he groaned and stood beside Orion. “This is so stupid…if we get in trouble, you’re giving me your rations for a whole cyber-week.” D-16 hissed, and Optimus heard himself laugh in return. 

“Sure sure, whatever you say!” Orion said back, and grabbed D-16’s hand. “Now let’s go~!”

“Wait wait wait you said you’d count you AFT-!” D-16 yelled, and Optimus laughed with his recorded self as they fell through the sky, in line of where their train was headed. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU FOR THIS PAX-!”

“Optimus.” Optimus flinched and quickly scrambled to remove the memory card from the holder. He threw it into the box and looked behind him, where Elita stood there, holding a datapad. She frowned, and crossed her arms. “Looking for clues, huh?” 

He chuckled nervously, and looked away. “I…may have lost sight of my task for a moment.” He said. He saw a flash of grey slip by his optics, and turned to follow it. When there was nothing, he only furrowed his browplates. Was he daydreaming? He clenched his servo, and glanced around quickly, unsure of what he was seeing anymore. 

“Prime!” Elita called out, and Optimus flinched. She huffed, and shook her helm. “Primus, you really are out of it.” She muttered, and looked at him worriedly. She sat down beside him, and slowly placed her servo over his forearm. “Are you…feeling okay?” She asked, her optics looking for any sign of distress in the Prime. “...is…is this about-”

“Y’know what, I think I’m tired.” Optimus chimed in, and pulled his arm away. He stood up, and grabbed the box. “I’ll see you and Bee later. Probably take a small recharge and come back.” He spoke faster, and placed the box back into its place on the shelves before heading to the exit. 

“Prime-” Elita said, and got up. 

“I’m fine, Elita,” Optimus cut her off, and gave her a small smile, though it didn’t reach his optics as well as he thought. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Trust me.” He said, and left her alone in the room. 

Elita sat down, and sighed. She held her helm in her servos, and took a deep vent. “...he’s a terrible liar.” She mumbled to no one, but a familiar grey mech nodded to her words behind a shelf.

Chapter Text

Megatron sat atop one of the farther buildings that existed on the edge of Iacon. He never liked coming back here, not after he came back as Megatron. He huffed and took off his helm, and closed his optics. He let his panels open, and he took a deep vent of his surroundings. The air in Kaon was full of odd toxins and scents; even special spots for the rich and wealthy carried some level of the same air as the rest of the city. But in Iacon, it was clear, so much so that even the smokes and smells that could escape into the city air couldn’t get very far before being ventilated away, leaving almost nothing behind. It was like Primus played favorites in where his people lived. Maybe he really did. 

Megatron sighed, and he grit his denta as he felt his arm twitch. His frame couldn’t stay at peace for long, the need to complete any new command engraved into him overtaking every other feeling. The mech stood up and shut his panels back against his core processor before placing his helm on again. A green visor pulled over his optics, and he felt a battle mask shift onto his face. He hunched over and groaned as his visor pulled up a screen showing the image of his target, and her location. 

“ Target is within range. ” An automated voice spoke through his audials, and he stilled. “ Mission: Eliminate enemy target Chromia. Elimination: Mandatory. Mission: accept? ” 

Megatron stayed quiet, before straightening up and looking upon the city of Iacon, his right optic gleaming an eerie hue behind his visor. “Accepted.” He said monotonously. He jumped off the building edge, before body shifted and transformed into a stealth plane, and flew up over the multiple buildings. His thrusters were quiet, almost silent as he flew over to where Chromia’s location was. She seemed to be taking a late night drive, perhaps for a patrol. She was alone, at least, just as every other task, so this wouldn’t be too hard. He sped up, and loomed over her predicted arriving location. 

Megatron shifted back to his normal form, and stood in an alleyway. He raised his left arm, and took a deep vent as he summoned his cannon, and aimed it at the road in front of him. He waited for a few seconds and charged up his cannon; 1…2…3-

He fired just as a slip of blue entered his vision and he put his cannon away. He stepped forward as Chromia transformed back to her normal form, and tumbled into the opposite alleyway. She was in a daze, her side and shoulder armor heavily damaged. She stumbled to stand up as fast as she could to face her attacker, but Megatron couldn’t let her have that. He didn’t want a fight. He wanted a murder. 

He grabbed Chromia by the nape of her neck, and threw her against the wall with a force that left a small dent. Chromia cried out, and Megatron didn’t like that. He never liked it when they made noise. He grabbed her jaw, and used his right servo to dig into her neck cables. Her screams were muffled as he carelessly dug through her neck, and pulled out her vocalizer. He pulled away to drop it, and she slid down the wall. 

Chromia coughed up fluid as she shakily tried to touch her throat, except Megatron wasn’t too kind. He grabbed the back of her helm, and smashed her face plate against his knee plate, before letting go and giving her a harsh kick, throwing her further into the alleyway. His steps were heavy, and his shadow loomed over her frame. He leaned down, and pressed his pede over her chassis, forcing her down, and tugged at her injured arm. “It’s useless anyway.” He said, and pulled hard. 

Chromia writhed and she let out a muted scream as the circuits holding the limb in its socket slowly tore apart, and more fluid spilled. Megatron threw the arm away, and lowered himself to his knees as he got closer. “This is to make amends.” He muttered as he raised his right servo in a fist, and began to bash her face into the ground. “To redeem myself.”

The first punch ruined her nasal opening, and seemed to damage one of her optics. The second crushed her frontal plating behind her faceplate, and the third dislocated her mandible inside her mouth. The fourth cracked the back of her helm, and the fifth broke open her processor to the ground below her. The seventh mashed that to pieces, damaging her vision and memories more. The eight was more focused on her optics, and once both optic openings were damaged, he stopped momentarily; but for Chromia, it would have been better if he hadn’t. 

He grabbed the edges of her faceplate, and tore it off to reveal the neural and facial circuits of her face. He grabbed each damaged optic in each of his servos, and his digits slipped to grab the many optical neural circuits holding them, and he held them tightly. “Can’t leave evidence. Can’t reveal myself yet.” He hissed, and yanked his servos back, tearing the circuits out of their ruined sockets and neural pathways. He dropped the ruined optics, and pushed her dislocated mandible open, where her glossa sat, bobbing slowly in her own fluid. He grabbed it, and dug his servo down further before tearing it out of her mouth.

Megatron then got up from over her form, and then looked at Chromia’s chassis. He grabbed the top of her chassis armor, and tore it off. He began to tear apart her torso as fast as he could, before he found what he was looking for. 

Chromia’s spark. 

Megatron had come to learn that what he did was no favor or blessing to Cybertron and its people, despite what the voice in his processor would say. He was no holy being like Prime- his actions only brought massacre and bloodshed behind him. He didn’t deserve to live freely without hearing the screams of his victims, so he found a better solution. A morbid, twisted, barbaric solution. 

He gently pulled the spark out of her chassis, and held it in his bloody servos. The light was bright, beautiful, but was fading now that it was out of its frame. He dropped his battle mask, and slipped it into his mouth. He chewed it, and grimaced at the odd taste that filled his mouth before swallowing it down his throat. A spark carried a Cybertonian’s soul, and when consumed, that soul was given some time to ‘haunt’ the mech that consumed them before they returned to the well of Allsparks to rest. The screams would be replaced with voices of anger and hatred towards him, but after 12 cycles of pain and suffering, it felt more comfortable than anything else.

He gagged, and lurched over. He covered his mouth to force the last remnants to fall in his throat, before he slipped his mask on, and stood up. He stood up, and shuddered, his right optic losing its glow as his systems took control of his frame once more. “...mission complete.” He mumbled, and glanced at Chromia’s corpse, the blue hue it carried now faded to a grey hue, surrounded in a puddle of her own fluids. Megatron wondered if he ever carried that same hue when he was still D-16. Did others think he was a walking corpse, merely following orders like a puppet while not seeking anything else? Anything more? 

Maybe he was. Maybe that’s why he only felt so numb, and not as upset as he should have been.

He grit his teeth as he felt his leg twist, and he cried out as he felt his circuits morph and warp within his frame. “No no no- Gaghk- !” He bent over uncannily as his left arm stiffened and raised itself high over himself. “Not here not here-” He panicked as he felt his lower half transform into his plane alt, making him fall over. He yelped as his helm hit the ground, and he sobbed weakly as his helm too began to twist and turn oddly. “Stop- stop-! ” He begged, and forced his frame to sit up and hit his body against the wall. In seconds, the shifting stopped, and he panted as he tried to calm down. He needed to get this fixed soon, they seemed to be happening much more sooner than usual. 

He sat there, and forced back his frame into its usual positions, and once he was able to walk and move again normally, he turned to the entrance of the alleyway. He pushed his visor and mask off his face plate, and rubbed his optics, feeling some tears drying there already. He’ll wash it up at the surface before he goes back to Kaon. He put his visor and mask back on, and shifted back into a plane, and flew off, silent as ever before. 

The smoke he left behind only existed for a few kliks before they fizzled away into the vents of Iacon, leaving the air clean as ever. 

———

Optimus sighed as he sat at the grand table, listening to his advisors and friends discussing the growing concern of the strange murderer and his killings. He had heard this conversation so many times, it was like listening to the same speech on repeat. But it was necessary, because unlike a speech, this involved the lives of the very people he was meant to protect. 

“There’s no pattern whatsoever,” Prowl said, and showed the holographic pictures of their victims through the memory card. “It started off with high guard members, but last week civilians were also found dead, and even one Autobot was found too. And then yestersol another high guard was killed near a pubspace.” He explained. “His locations are always different too. Sometimes they’re in the heart of Iacon, sometimes they’re by the edge, sometimes they’re near the edge of the surface entrance. The frame shape and transformation alters are so different. This mech is just killing senselessly, and we’ve got 8 mechs dead with no lead.”

Starscream looked at the cases, and pondered a bit. “...Thundercracker mentioned missing cogs in some of these.” He mentioned, and looked at Ratchet. “You and Knockout were overlooking the morgue examinations. How many of them were missing cogs?” 

Ratchet glanced at his datapads, then back at Starscream. “Including yestersol’s…about 4 now.” He examined. He pointed to each picture and explained. “The second one, the fourth, the sixth, and the most recent.”

“So the pattern’s within the cogs.” Starscream glanced back at Prowl, and then at the pictures. “You’ve got their whole identifications on your pad. What were their alter forms?” He asked. “‘S the only lead we have now.”

Prowl furrowed his browplates, and nodded. “I’ll look into it then.” He said. Even though the two despised each other, Optimus was glad they were willing to act civil and help each other out in times like these. 

“Okay, we’ll try to get back to that later then,” Elita spoke up, and swiped away the pictures. “Next topic: City wide lockdown. Optimus, want to explain your reasoning?”

Optimus blinked, and sat up. “Oh, um- yes, right.” He said, and pulled out a memory card as well. He placed it in the slot, and a hologram of the map of Iacon city pulled up. “These murders have been random, yes, but only seem to occur in Iacon. Other cities under our watch don’t have reports of any murders, with only the worst cases being just mugging attacks and thievery. Kaon is, of course, the only exception because they are known for their gladiator ring and violent folk, and most murders are left unreported.” He explained, and added a small note in his mind to prepare some plans to help them too. His duty as Prime extended to all cities, not just Iacon, of course. 

“Moving on, if these specific types of murders are only found in our city, then we can’t let our killer escape our grasp.” He said, and pressed a slider to show a barrier form around the map. “A lockdown will prevent any mechs trying to leave the premises, and afterwards we can ask for a curfew to be added. These murders only occur at night, so anyone outside after hours can be taken into custody.” Optimus finished, and looked around. “Questions?”

“What if our murderer isn’t from Iacon to begin with?” Shockwave spoke up, though his tone seemed uninterested. “If the barrier is meant to prevent Cybertronians from entering or leaving Iacon, what makes you think they might stop? We’d be merely giving them an opportunity to kill elsewhere. It would just complicate things.”

“Why not have the other cities follow that too then?” Bee piped up, and looked away as Shockwave glared at him. “We’d be trapping them wherever they are, and we can get the guards in the different cities to also take anyone out of curfew times into custody. That could work, right?” 

“No.” Prowl intervened, and crossed his arms. “A barrier for Iacon will be massive already, and while we can use the curfew to reduce power by shutting most areas off temporarily and redirect it onto the barrier itself, initiating a barrier everywhere would mean removing an equal amount of energy from the cities themselves.” Prowl began, and frowned when he got confused stares in return. “Think like how energon can fill a cup- the more energy you put in the barrier, the less energy you have left to power the city. Iacon is a powerful city, so energy isn’t hard to remove to fortify our barrier, but what about the other cities? Kaon is a wasteland on its own for how low the people there can get for survival, at most their energy fuels the gladiator pits and some pubs or bars there. A barrier there would leave most of Kaon in darkness.

“Tarn is a fortress, and their weaponry relies heavily on the energy they’re given. They’d rather search for the killer themselves than waste energy on a barrier. Crystal city, home of the constructicons. They specialize in focusing on scientific studies and discoveries advancing Cybertron to the future. You’d be better off convincing a sparkling not to eat too much candied energon than to have them put a barrier up.” Prowl continued. “Point is, it’s not worth it. I think Optimus is right to have a barrier and curfew for Iacon, but beyond that it’s just a gamble.” 

Optimus blinked a bit in awe, impressed. He knew from their younger years Prowl was always a sharp mind, but still seeing it in action sometimes left him surprised he wasn’t a scholar with his skills. He cleared his throat, and nodded. “Um, yes, thank you everyone. Let’s hold a vote to see how many of us agree to the plan.” 

“All in favor of the act.” Optimus asked, and raised his servo. Elita, Bee, Ratchet, Prowl and Starscream all followed, and the prime nodded. “Anyone against?” Skywarp, Shockwave and Thundercracker all raised their servos, and the result was decided. “We’ll prepare a proper plan to initiate the lockdown tomorrow then. Before then, we’ll need to get a check in from both Chromia and Knockout, considering they’re the only ones absent here.” 

“Knockout said he’d be out with his conjunx tonight,” Skywarp piped up, his mood indifferent to the meeting entirely. He was busy looking at his digits, and glanced at Optimus. “Said it was a special sol or something for them.” 

Optimus nodded, and let it be. “Very well. But Chromia’s absence is still left without a reason. Elita, if you can, could you try to contact her later? Inform her about the barrier and curfew plans as well for next time.” He said, and stood up. “Okay, I think that clears everything up now. Dismissed.” He spread his arms out, and smiled as everyone began to leave. 

Optimus looked behind him to the wall window once everyone was gone, and sighed as he looked out to the city at night. It was like watching the stars from within Cybertron, the different colors of lights flashing and flickering through the dark. Of course, he knew they could never compare to the real stars. 

“I’m really glad you brought us here.”  

Optimus sighed, and connected his forehelm to the window. “...I miss you.” He whispered. “I should’ve helped you, should’ve stopped you from leaving…” He looked at his reflection. His optics flickered to see a familiar silver shine behind him, and his vent stuttered as he made contact with those blazing ruby-like optics. 

“You never changed, Prime.” The figure said, but when Optimus turned to look at the mech, there was no one. The prime clenched his servo, and pursed his lips. Maybe he really was losing his processor. 

He left the meeting room and went to his private chambers. He pushed the curtains over the windows in his room, and looked up at the portrait in his room. His shoulders relaxed, and he smiled sadly. “Hey,” Optimus said, and placed his servo over the painting. “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.” He chuckled, and shook his helm. “We found another body…this one was missing his cog again, and we’re thinking maybe there’s a pattern to that…also started to prepare for a barrier…I’m thinking of visiting you tomorrow. I promise I’ll be there on time.” Optimus looked up at the colored faceplate of his closest companion in life. “I think you’ll like what I found last cyber-week. When you see it, you’ll be jumping in joy. Well- as you can in spirit…” He said, and scratched the back of his helm nervously. 

“...I hope you’re not upset with me still, D,” Optimus said, and his smile slowly fell. “If I had known- if there was a way I could have stopped it from happening- from losing you to them…” He clenched his servo, and took a deep vent. “...It’s getting late. I’ll go recharge, so I can visit you early.” He said, and pressed his lips against the brow ridge of D-16’s painting, before pulling away. “Goodnight, D…” He mumbled, and turned to his berth to face the new sol tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Prowl narrowed his optics as he started at a once familiar face. Who would have thought the one mech that was absent with no reason would be here, a cold grey corpse at his pedes. He felt one of his door wings behind him flicker in agitation. Whoever this was, they were starting to climb up the social circle, and Chromia’s death here only signified the danger that everyone in the counsel yestersol could be in. Another thing to add to his report, and something new to discuss with the others. 

He hoped he wasn’t in charge of consoling anyone who knew her well. Prowl was never the empathetic type to begin with, and even if he was he doubted he’d have the energy to inform a mech they lost a dear companion in such a cold and gruesome manner.

Prowl turned to look up as a familiar red car rolled in and shifted to a mech he could tolerate a little more after Starscream. “Knockout. Glad to know at least you’re okay.”

“So it’s you here today? Yikes, and here I am hoping the big boss would be here instead.” Knockout frowned, and glanced at the new corpse curiously. “Huh, they rarely tear off limbs.” He said, and bent down to look closer. “Chromia isn’t one to let her guard fall so easily. She and Elita were like twins in different paint colors. Must have been an ambush this time.” Prowl narrowed his optics at that, but didn’t question too much into it for now. 

Knockout crouched down and carefully pushed her ruined helm to the side. He smirked when he saw Prowl grimace and turn away. “What? Scared of a little mashed processor, officer?”

“Shut up.” Prowl groaned, and pinched the bridge of his browplates. “General examination of the body?”

Knockout snickered, and went back to his work. “Helm was bashed into the ground multiple times, destroying all access to her memories, both visual and audial.” He began. He pulled his servo away from the back to her facial area, and narrowed his optics. “...optic nerves, mandible, glossa and vocalizer…slag this mech’s just gotten more aggressive.” He chuckled, and stood up. 

“How so?” Prowl asked. While he did admit the death was a bit more graphic than usual, it was another thing to call it a more ‘aggressive’ form of their attacker’s usual methods. “What if it’s just an impersonator? Or a second partner?”

“All killers have their own style, like artists.” Knockout crossed his arms, and looked at Prowl. “A damaged helm and chassis aren’t new. Our mech’s signature presence comes with the surroundings.” He said, and jutted his chin to the wall by them. “See that dent? A helm bang, which means our mech must have fought at some point some time within the period of the death. It differs from that dent over there-” He then pointed to a large, less dented wall on the other side of the alleyway. “The shape and dent depth indicate it must have been Chromia who made that dent, and it must have been by being thrown into it.” 

Knockout then pointed to the corpse. “It’s common for our mech to also destroy their victim’s processor, though they usually had that crushed first before killing the rest of the mech.” He then motioned to Chromia’s mangled facial area. “ That is something they’ve never done before. Physically disabling a mech’s senses all around means they’re starting to get much more serious in this. They’re trying to ensure they have no tracks left behind. But it’s rushed. The faceplate edges here are jagged over Chromia’s facial space. The arm isn’t thrown away somewhere else in the alleyway, it’s right beside her corpse. Her chassis opening is wider than normal, like they were trying to tear it apart more, looking for something.” 

Knockout crossed his arms again, and smiled. “That’s what makes this more aggressive.” He felt his pride surge at the sight of Prowl’s surprised face, and his grin widened. “Well? Aren’t you happy you got me to examine the frame instead of that old medic?” 

Prowl blinked for a bit, before he frowned. “I did for a klik, then your ego ruined it.” He rolled his optics, and moved away from the corpse. “I’ll let you pick her up and take her to the morgue. Report any findings to me as always, Knockout.”

Prowl nodded absently, and sighed as he looked around. He glanced at the floor, and noticed the familiar soot marks again. He looked back at where Chromia’s frame lay, and then at the marks, noting the close distance. He narrowed his optics again, and pursed his lips. He checked the back of the alleyway already, and there was nothing there except scraprats and garbage there. But there were marks of their killer flying away near the entrance. 

He looked forward, and slowly walked out of the alleyway. Prowl looked around carefully, noting anything slightly out of detail. He then saw it- a small discoloration on the road near where Jazz was, who seemed more busy chatting to another mech on duty than helping out. He approached the two, and ignored Jazz as he spoke up. “Oh- hey Prowl. Got anything new from this-?”

“Just a moment.” Prowl replied, and grabbed Jazz’s shoulders. “Please stand right…here.” He said, and gently pushed his companion to the side before crouching down to properly look at the discoloration. He knew almost every general rule and law that existed in Iacon, with its most important being to keep the streets and buildings clean and safe for use to prevent rusting or destruction. Even distant districts like this one were treated well to uphold the image of Iacon being a ‘pure city.’ So a discoloration had to be new. 

Jazz looked at Prowl confused, and looked over his shoulder. “Uh…see something there, Prowl?” He asked, and only grew more puzzled as he watched Prowl swipe a digit over the oddity, and raised a browplate when his digit turned dark. “Is that some kind of ash?” 

 Prowl rubbed his digits together, and stood up. “Not ash…” He mumbled, and sniffed the substance. “Ammo residue.” He looked up, and glanced over the opposite alleyway before him. “...Chromia was shot here.” 

Jazz’s optics widened, and he tensed up. “Chromia? You mean like- the one that joins you and the others in the counsel?” He asked, and looked over at where Chromia’s frame was, and grimaced as he watched her grey frame get taken away with Knockout. “Oh slag, it really is.” He muttered, and looked back at Prowl. 

“Yeah, it is.” Prowl said, and wiped away the residue on his digits. He walked forward, and looked over the alleyway before him. His optics went over the walls, then to the ground. He stopped for a moment as he noticed familiar soot marks on the ground, and he snorted. “Well look at that…Knockout was right. It was an ambush.” He tilted his helm, and grit his denta. “How on Earth did they manage to do it though…? Chromia’s a strong mech, she’s handled a lot of Quintessons before with ease, and yet this one mech managed to take her out faster than ever…”

Prowl felt his comms go off, and his optics widened. “This is Officer Prowl’s communications,” He spoke up, and connected to the call. “Who is it?”

“Prowl, hi, it’s Optimus.” Prowl relaxed when he heard the prime’s voice. “How’s the situation? Who is it this time?”

Prowl pursed his lips, and sighed. “...Chromia.” He said, and turned back to head out of the alleyway. “Looks like we found our reason for her absence.” He looked over at holograms in the region, noting the timing for the public announcement. “I’ll continue this conversation later. I’m going to head back to the office and report it down before going over the details later. Elita already informed me you’re supposed to make the announcement today. Good luck.” He informed Optimus.

Optimus went quiet for a moment, before speaking up. “Chromia…? I-...I see.” He spoke slowly. “I’ll inform Elita about it then, and I’ll send her over to get the report. Thank you, Prowl.” He cut the comms, and rubbed his faceplate in frustration. Chromia. It had to be Chromia of all mechs. 

Not only was this case getting worse, it was starting to target his close allies. Perfect, just what he needed. How long did he have to wait until this killer turned to make him a target? Was he even safe as a Prime anymore? Were his friends safe anymore by his side? He couldn’t predict when or who this mech would start killing, and now he had to worry about which of his companions would be in danger. 

He shook his helm and sighed. “What a terrible morning this sol has already become.” He mumbled, and sat up. He picked up the datapad beside him, and skimmed over the speech Elita prepared. He trusted her words and guidance, and felt glad she was helping him. Given how busy he was enough trying to stay one pede ahead of the Quintessons, he allowed Elita to have more control over the public and let her be the face of the autobots. This was just one of the few times when his presence was necessary, where his voice would help the people. Though now he wasn’t sure who he was trying to guard from danger anymore. 

Optimus looked up as Elita entered the room, and she smiled a bit. “Well, we’ve got a crowd.” She said, and patted his shoulder. “Been a while since they saw you giving a speech again. Ironhide’s going over a summary of the situation, you’re up in about a breem.” Elita turned to look over him, and furrowed her browplates. “You okay? You look tense.” She sat up, and looked over his faceplate. “I can take over this time if you can’t handle it.” 

Optimus pursed his lips, and sighed. He sat up, and looked at her. Everyone knew how close they were. Femmes were very few and far from Cybertron, so most stayed close and held strong bonds from it. Elita and Chromia were no different. Losing an ally was painful enough, but this was much more deeper than that. 

Optimus straightened himself, and looked away. “Elita-”

Ironhide came to the back from the stage, and waved them over. “Alright, you’re up prime.” He said, and gave him a thumbs up. “Good luck.”

Optimus sighed, and nodded. He stood up, and patted Elita’s shoulder. “Contact Prowl for now about the situation. I’ll…see you after.” He said, and moved to the stage. He pushed the curtains to the side, and winced a bit at the glaring sun in his vision. He looked around, and recognized many familiar faces he had seen in his time, both as Pax and as Prime. 

He stood behind the podium, and took a deep vent. “My fellow people of Iacon,” He began. “As you all know, the city has become more dangerous during the last few sols. We have not found the killer yet, but we are still looking.” He informed, and his finials faltered at the sight of the people whispering and mumbling. “As of today, a curfew has been set to begin after 8, and release after 6 in the morning. Should you be found outside during those times, you will be taken into custody as a suspect. No exceptions.” He continued. 

“During this time as well, a barrier will be put up around the city to prevent anyone from entering or leaving Iacon.” Optimus looked at the podium, and pressed a button on the side to showcase the same hologram he showed to the council before. His browplates furrowed with worry when the whispers and mumbles only grew louder. “This will also go into effect starting today. Please know this is only temporary. Once the killer has been found, then we will remove both the curfew and the barrier.” He quickly added. “We hope that you cooperate for the time-”

“What does that mean for our businesses?!” One mech yelled. “Some of us are open only at night!” A few other mechs yelled out and argued against the notion. 

Optimus raised his hand to stop the noise, and nodded. “I am aware some of your business hours will be affected severely with this notion. For the sake of everyone in Iacon, however, I can not change the timings. I ask that you please change your hours for now, or otherwise remain closed until this case can be solved. Should this action take a toll against your savings, you are free to come to the office, and we will reimburse you as much as we can.” 

“And what about some of us who don’t live here?!” Another femme spoke up. “How will we get out if we’re stuck in the barrier!” More shouts and frustrated yells came, and Optimus sighed a bit to ease the growing stress in his processor. 

“We can’t do much about that,” He explained. “If you do not leave Iacon before the curfew time at 8pm, then you will have to find lodging within the city. If you’re found outside after 8, as I mentioned, you will be questioned and taken as a suspect until found otherwise.” He said. 

“Why weren’t we given any news about this sooner?!” Another mech yelled out. “We could have prepared for this, instead you dropped this on us without any explanation?! We deserve at least a sol to prepare!” Everyone else began to agree and demand. 

Optimus pursed his lips, and clenched his servos. This is exactly why he hated public speaking. “Very well. If that is what the majority wishes, then we will begin this notion tomorrow. Please know, however, that if you choose to not prepare within the time limit, do not expect us to show leniency. This case has been going on too long, and we will not take any chances.” 

He sighed as the crowd began to talk to each other, and often caught their gazes trace back to him for a moment before looking away, each one filled with different emotions. Anger, worry, frustration, exhaustion. Optimus shook his helm, and looked up around the crowd for a moment, and his optics widened as he noticed something. Somewhere, in the farther ends of the crowd, were two mechs standing on balconies in the alleyways. 

Optimus clenched his servos around the podium, and he narrowed his optics. “What…?” He mumbled, and tried to see them clearer. One looked odd- their limbs flat and wide, and didn’t seem to have any optics that normally would have glowed in the shadowy alleyway. The mech beside them looked somewhat smaller, and his optics glowed a faint yellow hue. He wore a cloak over his body, shrouding his form. 

Optimus felt his vent hitch, and he pulled away from the mic in front of him as he watched the smaller mech pull the hood back, revealing a very, very familiar bucket head. 

“D-?” He whispered, and gasped as he felt a servo on his shoulder. He looked at who it was, and relaxed seeing Ironhide beside him, the coral red mech looking over him with worry. He squeezed his servo around the prime’s shoulder, and nudged his helm to the side of the stage. A silent message, one Optimus took gladly. 

He turned to the people, and glanced back at the balcony he was watching before, and saw no one there. Was he truly hallucinating? He pursed his lips, before speaking up. “That is all I have to say for now. Ironhide will respond to any other questions.” He said, and walked back behind the stage. 

The prime didn’t stop to talk to Elita as she approached him, looking confused and worried. “Optimus-?” She asked, and watched him leave the room and the building without waiting. She furrowed her browplates, and sighed. She tried to contact Prowl again, and clenched her servo once he picked up. 

“This is Officer Pro-” 

“Prowl! I’ve been trying to call you for a while now.” Elita hissed, and huffed. “Why haven’t you been picking up?” 

“Oh, Elita.” Prowl’s voice seemed surprised, and he faltered before speaking up. “My apologies, I’ve been at the crime scene with Jazz.” He explained. “I’m currently at the entrance of the office to hand in my report to you.” 

“Crime scene?” She asked, and her annoyance quickly exchanged into concern. “Another mech was found? Who?” 

Prowl was quiet, before he spoke up. “Did Optimus not tell you, commander…?”

“Tell me what?” Elita narrowed her optics, dread slowly filling her chassis. 

———

Optimus let out a deep vent of air as he drove through the city of Iacon, taking different turns that brought him to the lower levels of the city. He stopped by the pit, a familiar place that held many memories for him. His death. His rebirth. The death of a close companion. The creation of an enemy. The end of tyranny, and the start of a new era. And now, it was where one of Optimus’s oldest friends laid. 

He stepped closer to the back of the ledge, the main platform where a crypt-coffin sat. Remembrance flowers were placed all around it, their blue hue marking the burial place in a soft light. Mixed with them were different pieces of Megatronus Prime merchandise, all left by Optimus himself. Pins, stickers, figurines, fabrics adorning his insignia, the whole lot. The prime only believed it was right to have them there, gifts that his friend deserved to have, even if he wasn’t here anymore. 

Optimus smiled, and moved to stand behind the crypt. He pressed a button on the side, and a hologram formed, showing D-16. The image flickered once in a while, but it was him- the same black helm, grey paint job, bulky frame, and those dashing golden optics that seemed to glow whenever his optics met Optimus’s, back when he was Orion. 

Optimus placed a servo over the crypt, and sighed softly. “...hi, again.” He said softly. “I…I know it’s been a while. Hope nothing much has been disturbing your spark these orns.” The prime lifted his left arm and opened the small chamber inside it, revealing a piece of paper. “I found this in the archives a while ago, it was apparently made for young mechs and femmes to join the Primes in battle.” He said, and opened it. 

It was a faded poster of Megatronus Prime, standing tall and proud in the sketch as bold letters were stamped on the bottom of his picture. ‘Want to do more for Cybertron? Join the High Guard!’ He snorted, and showed it to D-16’s hologram. “It’s one of the few remaining on Cybertron, and the archive’s have kept it preserved nicely. What do you think?” He asked.

A few kliks passed, and Optimus’s smile faltered. He let his shoulders slump, and he rubbed his faceplate. “Sorry, I know- I know this is stupid. I mean- you’re gone, and I’m still running to you for help…” He said quietly. He wrapped the poster up, and placed it with the other merchandise sitting around the crypt. 

Optimus sat close to it, and he hugged his knee plates. “It’s just- I still can’t do it. Being a Prime. Especially now that we have this random killer murdering Cybertronians left and right. Just today, we found Chromia’s body. And now we have a barrier and a curfew set up for safety.” He sighed, and held his helm in his servos. “...I’m worried about the others now. If one of us gets taken like this, just- so suddenly and without warning. It’s already a struggle to try and find this killer with civilians getting killed senselessly, but without the council…?”

Optimus pursed his lips, and looked up as the holograms showed a live stream of the announcement going on back in front of the office. He couldn’t make out the words from his spot, but the sounds of anger and frustration that echoed in the people were clearly heard, and the Prime felt so small. “...we’re dying faster than ever, and I don’t think I can handle carrying that burden on my shoulders.” He whispered. 

Optimus remained seated by the coffin, quietly listening to the soft hum of the hologram. He leaned his helm back, and closed his optics, and merely took in the cushioning silence. 

For a moment, he was back in the stand, standing in the race lights with D-16, watching the racers get ready to start. Could smell the polish and fresh paint jobs they got below them, rich and strong as it mixed with the smell of oil and rust sticks most of the miners seemed to bring for the race. The engine smoke that flew around the race tracks, left behind by opponents as Orion and D-16 ran to get through the race. 

The sounds of cheering, of yelling, of the laughter they shared when they were in the lead. The sound of a stray frame part colliding with D’s ankle joint and damaging the leg, his frame falling to the floor as he cried out in pain-

Optimus gasped, and sat up as he heard his comms go off. He blinked a bit, and looked around in surprise before he heard them go off again. He hurriedly stood up and leaned on the edge of the coffin as he turned his communications on. “Ah- This is Optimus Prime-” 

“Optimus!” Jazz buzzed through the other end of the line. “There you are. We’ve been trying to find you for almost 2 groons now! Are you alright?” He asked. 

Optimus’s optics widened, and he looked behind him at the hologram again. The news had changed, and was discussing the reactions to the announcements once it was done. He took in a shaky vent, and he straightened up. “Slag-” He hissed, and quickly turned off the hologram. “Sorry, I must have dozed off-” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Jazz piped up. “So long as you’re okay, there shouldn’t be much to worry about. Elita’s calling everyone for an emergency meeting. She told me to contact you while she went over Prowl’s report. We’re still waiting for what Knockout and Ratchet found in the morgue.” He explained. “For now, it’s probably best if you come back. Shockwave’s not coming out from his lab, and Elita wants everyone tonight. No exceptions.” 

Optimus sighed, and nodded. “Alright, I’ll see if I can get Shockwave out of there, and then visit the morgue to get Ratchet and Knockout.” He said, and looked at the carvings on the coffin. He traced a digit over the engravings of the fallen mech’s name, and clenched his denta. “I’ll see you soon, Jazz.” He ended the call quickly, and pulled his servo away from the grave. 

The prime looked at it one more time, and smiled sadly. “Sorry, D. Prime stuff, I guess.” He chuckled, and scratched the back of his helm. “Think you can wait for me again?” He pleaded hoarsely. He didn’t wait for a response, and headed to the edge before transforming into a truck, and driving off onto a new road back to the office.